


A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Lose

by MayaShea



Category: Lollipop Chainsaw
Genre: Addiction, Additional Warnings Apply, Blood, Drabble, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gore, Other, Self Harm, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaShea/pseuds/MayaShea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mariska wakes up, confused and bloody, after having a black out due to drug withdrawal. Major trigger warnings apply, read at your own risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Lose

The music played loud, the sound of each instrument vibrating in her chest. She closed her eyes as her lips curled into a smile and her head tilted back, letting each guitar strum and drum beat go through her ears and enter her mind. Songs like these almost made her forget that she was dead, or at least made her feel alive again for a little bit. She was never sure if it was the lyrics, or the chorus, or the instruments, or all of it together that gave her such a euphoric sensation. Oh, but it felt so good. Even if it was temporary.

Her eyes opened dreamily as she took in the world around her. The colors, the shapes, the _feeling_...though it looked imaginary, it felt real. 

She attempted to sing along to the music, but her words came out as more of a loud whisper than singing. She looked down, raking a few fingers through her long, dark hair. Below her was a large pane of glass that stretched for miles, and she paused to look at her reflection, kneeling down. 

Her hand extended to touch the glass. She stared, taking in her appearance. She looked the same as she always did; her hair a mess, her makeup dark, and her clothes old and torn. Though...for some reason, she seemed different. Her body leaned down further, and she took a closer look, unsure of what was off about her. 

Suddenly, a drop of blood fell onto the glass, giving her reflection a dot of crimson red. She practically jumped back, alarmed by the surprise. For a few seconds, she stayed completely still, unsure of what to think or do.

Then another drop of blood splattered down below her, followed by another, then another, until there was a small puddle. Her first instinct was to look up to see if the source was above her, but there was nothing. Her hands felt around her body, stopping when they touched her stomach. She raised one hand in front of her, examining the dark red color stained all over it. She was bleeding. Why was she bleeding?

She closed her eyes for a minute or two, and when they opened, she was standing in a small, dirty, tiled bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. With one hand still placed on her bleeding stomach, she put the other on her reflection, leaving a smudged red hand print.

Out of the blue, she felt sick. Where had she been? What was going on? All Along The Watchtower played, the same song she had been listening to before, but it sounded distant. Her eyes darted around the room. There was a bath tub, a toilet, and a sink, which she stood before. Resting on the sink was a needle, one that somebody would use for sewing fabric. It was drenched in the same deep red color that her hands were. She took another glance up, trying to put all of the pieces together in her head. 

Slowly, she fumbled towards the door, taking her hand off of her stomach and leaving blood on the doorknob as she opened it. The music was louder and more clear in this room. She took a few quick looks, noticing a record player on a shelf in the corner. 

A trail of red drops appeared behind her as she made her way towards it, staining the shag carpet she was walking on. She turned the machine off, then remained still. 

Her next priority was to re-stitch her open stomach, but there weren't any extra stitches in sight. She kept bleeding, a bloody circle forming below her. Yet she didn't move, instead giving herself a chance to let her thoughts catch up to her. Bleeding out wasn't a worry, anyways, since she was already dead. It still hurt, though. Every few seconds she got a large zap of pain. She remained still. Honestly, she liked how it felt. It helped bring her back to reality.

_Wait....no. No, go back. Go back now. I don't want to live in reality. I don't want to be here._

Now she felt anxious, she could feel it creeping up from her chest into her head. It spread from there, and she slowly slumped down, laying in the puddle that had been collecting around her. A million different voices spoke to her, all talking at once, and it was too loud. She could have sworn she heard her heartbeat, though that was impossible. 

_Drugs. I need drugs. Where are the fucking drugs?_

Her gaze ventured up to a counter with various orange pill bottles on it. _Yes, yes, yes. Yes, go there. Move there._ She crawled over, as she suddenly felt that she couldn't get up, and desperately stretched her arms out. _Please, please, just a little further. I can reach, it's just...a little..._

"Mariska."

Her head whipped around, her pose staying the same. A tall, dark figure stood in a doorway that hadn't been there before. Or had it? Had she just not been paying attention?

The figure's head moved slightly, as if to look at what she was aiming to get, before it moved a few steps forward to where it was more visible. _Oh, it's Lewis. Good, he can get these for me. I need these. I need him to get these and hand them to me. Tell him that. Go, Mariska, tell him. Use your words._

She looked up at the pill containers, then back at him, but he wasn't looking at her. It seemed he was investigating the various trails and puddles of blood, instead. 

"Why were you laughing so fucking loud?"

"I...laughing?" She replied in her usual raspy tone, a look of pure confusion painted on her face.

"I figured you were watching something funny on television, or something. You watch television, right?"

"Laughing?" She repeated, still confused.

"Yeah. You were laughing a few minutes ago. It was you, for sure." He said, finally taking his gaze off of the blood on the floor and bringing it to her. His eyes almost instantly darted to her stomach, noticing she was still bleeding. He let out a sigh. "God, Mar, what did you do this time?"

"I..." Her expression started to gloss, like she was spacing out. "I don't remember." She blinked, looking confused again. "My whole body hurts, my head hurts...it's so loud. ...Fuck, man. Fuuuck..." She closed her eyes, trying to fight off the anxious feeling she was experiencing. While she was unsure of what was going on, Lewis had certainly been around long enough to see this before. This was what happened when she was sober for an extended period of time. Around a week or so would usually do her in for extreme panic. She would flip, black out, and wake up not remembering anything that happened. The blood trails everywhere was new, though. It must have been a pretty serious black out, he thought. 

She was softly crying now, clutching her head and rolling into a ball. It would probably be best to get this over with as quick as possible. Lewis walked over to the counter and grabbed one of the pill bottles, then crouched down to match the level she was at. 

"Hold your hand out." He said, but she was either ignoring him or couldn't hear him. He sighed again. "Fine, don't then." He said, taking one of her bloody hands and holding it out for her, instead. She let out a shriek, quite obviously not wanting to be touched at the moment. Regardless, he opened the bottle and dumped a few of the tablets out onto her palm. When she felt them there, she brought her head up and slowly stopped crying, throwing the pills back onto her tongue and swallowing them in one big gulp.

"Happy now? Everything all good? You going back into loopy land?"

She sniffed, wiping some tears from her eyes and accidentally rubbing blood all over her face. It took some minutes for her to respond, but when she was able to, she stood up. Her expression was mucher calmer, and her eyes were noticeably dilated. "You mean happy land, Brother Lewis."

"Loopy land, happy land, whatever." He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. "I'm getting sick of having to rescue your ass from withdrawal, you know." 

Mariska said nothing, she just smiled and walked behind the counter, opening a cabinet and taking out some stitches and a needle. 

**Author's Note:**

> Needed to get some heavy thoughts out of my head, so I did. If you like it, that's fantastic, I'm glad! But this is mostly just a venting fic on my part. Plus, I've been dying to make some kind of fic/drabble/whatever, so I'm satisfied now lol.


End file.
